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 Posted: Sat Nov 01, 2008 11:32 am
 It was a rare thing for the detached lioness to be seeking someone out. A very rare thing indeed.
Kibela had never been one for socialization. But she was determined to make an effort. And this first meeting was an important one. If she did not get on well with Azarax, then Kidondo's work would be more difficult. That was the last thing she wanted!
Shaking away her thoughts, the lioness re-focused on the task at hand. Tracking down the General was no easy task for one who refused to ask around for his location. Instead she had set herself to wander their land, hoping to cross his path along the way. She padded easily though the sands, eyes quickly scanning for that unique coat that she knew she could recognize him by.
The build of a pure-blooded Firekin, with such a distinctive coloring... Yes, he would be very hard to miss.
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Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2008 4:15 am
The sand shifted under his paws, as it always did, day in and day out, with every single step he took. The deserted coated lion instinctively shifted his weight to correct it, and continued his way up the dune. He remembered seeing, once or twice, a lion who had particular trouble negotiating the sands attempting to scale one of the dunes. Each time, it had seemed as if they were attempting to plough through, instead of over, it. How they managed to sink so much into the sand, Azarax would never know. This was his home, one of the few terrains he had ever negotiated before in his life, and most definitely the most comfortable one.
He knew every inch of the desert territory by heart, whether he liked it or not - and surely he did - and it made it infinitely easier for him to find his way. Somehow, he didn't quite know how, he knew where he was at all times. He reocgnized the dunes, knew when he had strayed too far or perhaps not far enough. Certainly, growing up in the desert had its perks.
He paused at the top of the sand dune, and not for the first time, he glanced out over at the horizon. It was not a particularly unusual thing for him to do. Most days, he would do exactly what he was doing now, it having worked its way into his routine. He gazed out across the sands, his eyes lingering briefly on the horizon, where the Traditionalists had last been seen. Then just as quickly, his gaze shifted.
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